


tell the sun in his jealous sky

by lalaietha



Series: Salutation, Valediction [6]
Category: His Dark Materials - Pullman
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-25
Updated: 2010-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-06 16:24:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalaietha/pseuds/lalaietha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The letter is examined and chewed over, and a conclusion tentatively reached.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell the sun in his jealous sky

Lyra took the letter from Will, when he was finished. She read it over herself a few times, while Mary had her thoughtful look on. She smelled the paper. Held it up to the anbaric (electric, before you confuse someone, she thought to herself) light above her head and bit her tongue thoughtfully when she saw the watermark.

"Do you have any idea who might have sent this?" Mary asked her. Lyra supposed she wouldn't ask Will. They were close enough that anything out of the ordinary Will knew, Mary would know, too.

Lyra shook her head. She brought the letter down to her lap again and frowned at the words. "The paper's from my world," she said. "But if it's angels as sent it, that doesn't mean much at all, they can go anywhere they like and get what they like, too." She frowned at the paper, still, so much that Will looked at her and asked.

"What?"

Lyra bit the tip of her tongue again, and said, "But it doesn't sound like angels, does it? I mean, not that I've seen a lot of them since - " and she waved her hand, because she wasn't sure what to call it here. "But they were always terrible serious, or terribly patronizing. This doesn't sound either. It sounds - "

"Amused," Will said, taking it back, "and - old. Older than angels."

Mary pursed her lips. "Which, according to Xaphania, ought to be impossible."

"But maybe she didn't know," Lyra said. "After all, the Authority was there before the rest of the angels, wasn't he?"

"So maybe there was something before the Authority." Mary frowned. "But then how does one get the Authority?"

Will shrugged, and put the letter down on the round table in the middle of the room. Lyra took his hand back. She liked having his hand to hold: it was warm, and softer than most men's hands she'd held, but he'd always be cleaning them as a doctor. "Before doesn't mean stronger-than," he replied. "And if the older thing didn't want to rule the world, maybe they didn't notice until after the Authority's already set himself up. And then, well, it's just part of the first War in Heaven, isn't it?" He was frowning again, though, looking at Lyra's hand.

"What?" she took her turn to ask, now.

Will hesitated, but he'd never been one not to say difficult things, even if he thought she'd be upset by them, and he said, "I just don't know if this is a good idea, then. I mean - " he paused, and almost made a face. Lyra snorted.

"D'you have those moments of remembering what we said and thinking 'bugger, I sounded like such a ridiculous twit' too?" she said, waving it away. He was touchy, still, from when his mother started to get confused and upset, and she didn't think he wanted to repeat, quite, what they promised - yet there weren't really other words for it, were there? _Live our lives properly._ And the angel, words that had seemed so much less foolish coming from her mouth: _Helping them to learn and understand about themselves and each other and the way everything works, and by showing them how to be kind instead of cruel, and patient instead of hasty, and cheerful instead of surly, and above all how to keep their minds open and free and curious - _

And she stopped then. The words were there in her mind: they were always there in her mind, engraved then the way the alethiometer's symbols were now, and she stopped. And she held out her hand for the letter again. Mary gave it to her.

"That's what he means," she said. When Will looked at her, she said, "Whoever wrote this letter. He - or she, I suppose - that's what he meant. Will, there's none of that we can't do, nothing we promised that we can't do even the way things are now. It might even be better - listen, I can learn things, here in this world, and take it back. Things about medicine and flight and, oh, Will, you told me once in your world they've been to the stars and maybe we could. And there are things you could learn, too."

Mary looked thoughtful. "And an entire internet to set them free in, too," she added, "it wouldn't have to be us making great discoveries, we could just . . . seed things. People out there will try them, they always do. Even if it's just a know-it-all in some faculty who wants to prove us wrong."

"I haven't the faintest idea what anything you just said means," Lyra informed Mary, "but I think that's what I mean, yes. Oh, Will, don't you see?"

He looked at her blankly, and then Pan sat up on her lap and put his paws on her shoulders. He whispered in her ear, "He's so afraid of being happy, it's hard for him to see," and Kirjava must have told him.

She nodded, absently, and squeezed Will's hand, looking right at him. "Xaphania didn't want us to look for the doors," she said, carefully, "because she thought we'd spend all our time looking for them instead of doing what we've got to. And like the letter-writer said, maybe she was right. I'd've looked. I'd've hunted all over the world and not done any good with my life, I know that. And we couldn't open doors, because of the Dust and Spectres."

"Right," Will said, as if he was waiting for her to go on, and she tried not to want to shake him. It wasn't him that she really wanted to shake, either, it was the hardness. She bit his thumb, instead, ignoring when he protested.

"_It's not true anymore, Will_," she said, forceful as she could. "I didn't go looking for this door. It was just there. It en't losing any Dust. We're both grown up and smart. You've got people to look after and so do I. It en't perfect." And that was a bit of an ache, too, but she pushed on. "We know we still can't just - live together forever, we got to go back and forth, but we can _visit_. There's no reason not to. You've got your life with the things you got to do, and so do I, and we can do them, _and_ we can see each other, too."

And she tossed her hair back behind her - it was falling out of its ties again, damn the stuff, she wished she could be a girl again and cut it short. She found herself in a lot more sympathy with the letter-writer, suddenly, than with Xaphania. She didn't see any reason why the angel couldn't've thought of this, if she was so wise and old. "We didn't go looking for it," she said. "We did grow up to do what we said we were going to. And we can still do it - we can do it _better_, now, I think. Because of this gift."

Will looked dubious, but there was something like hope behind that - and then Mary burst out laughing, the loud, long laughter that old women could get away with, and Lyra stared at her and Will stared at her and Kirjava stared at her and Pan gave a chirrup of curiousity.

"Oh, Christ - " and then she stopped and burst into a new round of laughter. Lyra thought she saw - well, it was like an echo, except with her eyes, one of black wings fluttering and - yes, there, a bird, and she thought suddenly it must be Mary's daemon and almost forgot that she wanted to know what was apparently so damn funny.

Will was just looking askance at Mary until Mary calmed down, and said, "Oh, hell. I'm sorry. It's just - my dears, you have been given grace." She sat up, wiping under her eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just terribly funny for someone who used to be a nun. Neither of you probably has the first idea what I'm talking about, do you? No," she said, when Lyra and Will looked at each other and then back at her, "I didn't think so. I'll explain, but maybe later - no, Will, I agree with Lyra. And, I think, with the individual who wrote this letter."

For a moment, Will still looked like he was going to argue. Then Kirjava turned around and looked at him, and said, with great irritation, "It isn't _illegal_ for us to be happy, you know," and jumped down off the arm of the sofa to stalk into the kitchen. Pan leapt down after her, and then pounced on her and bit the back of her neck.

Will opened his mouth, as if to say something. Then he closed it again. He looked lost for a moment. Then angry.

Lyra decided that he didn't actually need to speak just now. So she leant forward and kissed him instead. When she sat back, she could see Mary was smiling a little.

"Well," Mary said. "We ought to eat. I was going to make us stuffed mushrooms, Will, but there honestly isn't enough for three - "

Will came back to the room, then, and said, "I can get us delivery, Mary."

"Good," said Mary. "Then, if you like, I'll explain what I meant. The phone's in the kitchen, Will - " She started to get up, but then a look of pain flashed across her face and she stopped. Lyra, recognizing it (though not on Mary), got to her feet at once and offered her arm.

"Thank you, Lyra," Mary said. "It's my knee." She stood up the rest of the way on her own and grimaced at her leg. "Right. Let's get food on its way."


End file.
